Reunion
by Zathara001
Summary: When Diana Prince saw someone impersonating her long-ago friend Steve Rogers during the Chitauri invasion, she had to investigate. She never expected what she found. Part One of Amalgam: Shield and Lasso.
1. Chapter 1

Amalgam: Shield and Lasso

Part One - Reunions

When Diana Prince saw someone impersonating her long-ago friend Steve Rogers during the Chitauri invasion, she had to investigate. She never expected what she found. Part One of Amalgam: Shield and Lasso.

As always, all rights to this story are hereby given to DC and Marvel and/or their parent companies and/or the applicable copyright owners

Normally, Diana Prince's office at the Musee du Louvre was a quiet place to work - especially this late in the evening, just before closing, when most of the tourists were gone.

Today, though, a chatter of voices disturbed her as she reviewed lists of proposed acquisitions and items from the museum's warehouses that might be sold to partially fund the acquisitions, and she looked up from her computer, glaring out her office door to the reception area outside.

A double handful of people, more than she'd ever seen gathered there at one time, chattered amongst each other, even as they surrounded her assistant's desk, staring at something on Helene's computer.

With a silent, resigned sigh, Diana rose from her desk and strode toward the door.

"Helene," she began, but her assistant jumped up from her seat and cut her off.

"Aliens, mademoiselle," Helene said, her eyes wide with both wonder and fear. "It's aliens! Invading New York."

It was on Diana's lips to deny it, but Helene grabbed her hand and tugged her around the desk so she could see the image on the screen.

The image, a news feed from LNN, showed swarms of humanoid creatures on some kind of skycraft pouring from a portal in the sky. Besides the swarms of creatures, there were larger - much larger - ones that looked like a cross between a slug and an armored whale who flew under their own power.

Ignoring the commentator's too-scared-to-be-useful observations, Diana instead let herself absorb the impact of the images themselves. Unconsciously, the fingers of her right hand twitched as though to grasp the Sword of Athena so she could leap into the fray herself.

It was a reasonable desire in the face of such an invasion, but New York was hours away, even by the fastest airplane. The battle would be over before she could get there - and if it weren't, she would prepare to defend Paris against these alien invaders.

Then her breath caught as amidst the destruction a flash of red, white and blue - not the American flag, she thought, not moving as it was.

Then the movement stopped, and the image on the screen froze on a man in a blue cowl with a bright white A on its front. His chestpiece, of the same blue, had a brilliant white star shining in its center.

It couldn't be. It couldn't be …

Steve.

Steve Rogers, the second Steve she'd known, so like the first in temperament and nobility, not just his name. But like Steve Trevor, Steve Rogers had been lost to her, to the world, summoned to Hades' realms much too soon for her liking.

And now someone dared to impersonate her long-ago friend, even going so far as to recreate the man's vibranium shield. Diana's hand clenched into a fist. She would not need the Sword to deal with this impostor - assuming he survived the encounter with the invaders, of course.

Without thinking, Diana pulled a chair closer and perched on it, the voices of Helene and other Louvre employees fading from her awareness because the camera had chosen to follow not-Steve as he ran down a street, dodging falling debris and alien weapons alike before he somersaulted onto the roof of a police car.

He was apparently giving orders to a police officer when a pair of invaders attacked him, and he dispatched both of them with severe efficiency. The familiarity of his moves made Diana swallow hard.

Was it possible, somehow, that this was in fact the Steve Rogers she knew, somehow returned from the dead?

If so, she could only pray to Gaia that he did not return to death at the hands of these invaders.

WW - CA - WW

The battle ended quickly, but it was still late enough that Diana hesitated to make the call she knew she had to make.

Peggy Carter's illness meant that she slept much, and often was asleep by dusk, news of aliens in New York City notwithstanding.

Still, that very news meant Peggy might yet be awake tonight.

Diana retreated to the privacy of her office to dial the number she knew so well.

"Hello?"

It wasn't Peggy's voice, but another that Diana recognized.

"Sharon," she said. "It's Diana. How is she today?"

The younger woman - Peggy's niece - let out a shuddery breath that seemed to echo down the connection. "She wasn't well at all - and then, the news -"

"She saw?" Diana asked gently.

"She did - she was glued to the screen the whole time," Sharon replied, her tone weary. "It was the most … _present_ she's been in days, and she couldn't stop talking about how Steve had finally come for their date. I just got her to bed a little while ago."

Diana swallowed. "She thinks it's really him? Steve Rogers?"

"She _knows_ it, Diana - and she's right."

"She's right?" Diana repeated. Without the Lasso of Hestia and its truth-compelling abilities, how could anyone be certain that Steve Rogers had returned from the dead?

"I had a call from Nick Fury," Sharon said, sounding more awed than she should at a call from her boss. "They found the _Valkyrie,_ the plane he crashed near the end of World War Two, and somehow he survived. I was ordered to move into an apartment near the one S.H.I.E.L.D. arranged for him."

Diana forced her tone to remain neutral. "To spy on him?"

"No, to protect him."

Her mother would be ashamed of the snort Diana let out - it was hardly Amazon-like, let alone princess-like. "Captain America needs protection?"

Sharon managed a weak laugh. "Well, that's what Fury said. It's more like guard duty, I suppose. If he needs help, if anyone tries to get to him…"

"That makes sense, I suppose," Diana said - though it really didn't. Why would a spy organization - which is what S.H.I.E.L.D. was, despite its official name Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division - be keeping an eye on Captain America, a decorated war hero recently returned from the dead?

"I'll be leaving tomorrow," Sharon continued. "I won't be flying into New York directly, obviously, but Fury wants me on site as quickly as possible."

"Safe travels, Sharon," Diana said, her thoughts whirling. "And tell Peggy that I'll be in touch soon."

Sharon bade her a good night, and Diana hung up the phone, frowning at it absently.

She should be thrilled that Steve was alive - and she was, but the conversation with Sharon had raised issues she hadn't considered before, and Diana knew that she couldn't rest easily until she'd sorted those out.

Not, she thought wryly, that she had any idea how to sort them out. She could live in the modern world, but that didn't mean she was familiar with everything she needed.

Fortunately, she knew people who could help. A glance at the time told her that the time difference was far more advantageous for this call than for the one she'd just finished.

She reached for the phone again.


	2. Chapter 2

A week after the Chitauri invasion - or, as the news was calling it, the Battle of New York - Steve Rogers felt as lost as he had since he'd woken up in a fake hospital room.

No, he felt even more lost now, because at least the invasion had given him something to _do_ , a purpose, that linked him with his new time.

He'd never admit aloud that sometimes, he wished the invasion was still ongoing. At least he knew what to do in a war.

Steve paced the apartment Nick Fury had said he could use, knowing he should go out into the world, explore, and see what had changed and, maybe somewhat depressingly, what hadn't.

As it often did during moments like these, moments when he felt at odds with life, his gaze strayed to the stack of briefing packets he'd been given, and the one folder he'd looked at so often he'd memorized it.

The file on Peggy Carter seemed to taunt him, with its red-stamped RETIRED label and a notation of her current address and phone number, as if daring him to contact her.

As he always did, Steve hesitated. It was good to know Peggy was still alive - and of course she'd live into her 90s. If nothing else, she was too stubborn to die.

But that didn't mean she was in good health, nor that she'd welcome a call or a visit from him if she were.

Still, she'd been a friend with the potential to be something more. He thought of her as his girl, and surely that merited a call or a visit?

A knock on his door interrupted his thoughts, and Steve turned to answer it, not certain whether he was grateful for the intrusion or not.

Steve opened the door and found himself facing a man who might be in his late forties, or maybe a little older to judge by the graying at his temples. The man wore a suit and tie, and something about the formality of his dress felt familiar, even comforting.

"Captain Rogers?" The man offered him a tentative smile.

"Yes, Mr. -?" Steve prompted.

"Bruce Wayne." The man didn't offer his hand, instead turning something in his hand so Steve could see it.

It was a tablet - or Steve thought that's what Tony Stark had called it - a handheld computer somewhat larger than a stenographer's tablet, which might be where it got its name. The man shifted it in his hand, and Steve read the words in white on a blue background.

A FRIEND SENT ME. SHE LIKES TO WEAR ARMOR AND CARRY A SWORD AND SHIELD.

There was only one person those words could refer to, and Steve flicked his startled gaze back up to meet Bruce Wayne's eyes.

Wayne nodded, and gave him a questioning look. But what could he be questioning? Then Steve got it.

"Mr. Wayne," he said. "We haven't met, have we?"

"No," Wayne answered and tapped his tablet. "I'm here on, well, a humanitarian mission of sorts."

"Humanitarian?" Steve repeated. "I don't understand."

FRIEND'S CONCERNED FOR YOU, SAYS YOU'RE BEING WATCHED. SENT ME TO MAKE SURE APARTMENT ISN'T UNDER ELECTRONIC SURVEILLANCE.

Steve frowned at that, in turn raising an eyebrow to prompt Wayne to explain.

"I'm sure you've been busy since you … woke up," Wayne said, "and not just fighting off an alien invasion."

"Not as much as you might think," Steve muttered.

"Really?" Wayne's surprise appeared to be genuine. "Then if you have a few minutes, may I come in and tell you why I'm here?"

"Sure." Steve stepped aside, and Wayne moved easily past him. Wayne set his tablet on the table, then withdrew a small electronic device from a pocket and paced the apartment.

"I don't know if you know this, but after the war, there was a lot of merchandise with your name and image on it," Wayne said as he waved the device - presumably a scanner of some kind - up and down each wall and over all the light and electrical fixtures.

"Trading cards," Steve said. "Even during the war, there were trading cards."

"Among other things," Wayne agreed. "And you're entitled to some of the profits from the sale of them. Since you were MIA, presumed killed in action, that money went into … well, that's the thing. I have no idea where that money went."

Wayne finished his circuit of the apartment, pocketed the scanner, and picked up his tablet, meeting Steve's gaze briefly before tapping another message.

Steve cleared his throat and picked up the conversation. "Even ignoring that you don't have a need to know where the money went, Captain America is a government creation, and a government employee. Wouldn't the government - the Army, specifically - be entitled to that money?"

"If the merchandise only had Captain America's image on it, then yes," Wayne said. "But if your face - Steve Rogers' face - is displayed, then you're entitled to some of it. At least according to my lawyers."

Wayne turned the tablet again.

APARTMENT CLEAN OF ACTIVE SURVEILLANCE. SUSPECT PASSIVE SURVEILLANCE IN APARTMENT NEXT DOOR.

Steve wasn't even certain what passive surveillance might be. So he asked the only question he could, "What should I do about it?"

Wayne started tapping on the tablet again, even as he spoke. "Hire your own lawyer - in fact, two. One for the intellectual property issue, because that's real specialized stuff."

"And the other?" Steve asked.

"A JAG lawyer - sorry, Judge Advocate General's Corps - lawyer, to handle the military ramifications of your return to life. Things like back pay and such."

Wayne showed Steve the tablet once more.

MUTUAL FRIEND HAS MORE INFO. WAITING AT PATRIOT CAFÉ. I'LL MAKE SURE YOU'RE NOT FOLLOWED.

"That's very helpful, thanks," Steve said. Then the question he'd been burning to ask slipped out. "Why are you doing this?"

Wayne closed the tablet and met Steve's gaze without flinching. "Because some of the best memories I have of my father were when he told me stories about you and the Howling Commandos, and if he were alive, he'd do everything he could to make sure you're settled into this strange new world you find yourself in. It's my honor to do what he can't."

Even if Diana had somehow prompted Wayne's visit, Steve thought, his words now were sincere.

"I'm grateful," Steve said. "And I'm sorry for your loss."

"It was a long time ago," Wayne said. He pulled a card from his pocket and offered it to Steve. "If you need anything, call me."

Steve took the card. "Thank you."

With a nod, Wayne let himself out of the apartment. Steve blew out a breath as the door closed behind the other man and studied the card he'd been given.

WAYNE ENTERPRISES

Bruce Wayne, President and CEO

An address and telephone number were engraved beneath those words, and on the back, a different, handwritten telephone number with the words, "Call any time," in nearly-illegible script.

Steve tucked the card into his wallet, thinking. If someone really were monitoring him from the apartment next door, it wouldn't look good for him to leave immediately after the conversation he'd had with Bruce Wayne. They'd expect him to - or at least understand if he tried to - verify the information he'd been given.

Steve pulled the cell phone Tony Stark had given him from his pocket and touched the icon that would connect him to Howard's son.

"What's up, Capsicle?" Tony's voice came through immediately. "Having trouble turning on the lights?"

"The technology really isn't that different from before," Steve said, mostly because he knew it would get a rise out of the other man - and it did, to judge by the spluttering sound that came through the phone.

"Not that different? Why -"

"Tony." Steve injected a hint of command into his tone, and Tony subsided. "I'm calling because I just had a visit from Bruce Wayne."

"Wayne?" Tony sounded outraged. "What did that upstart want with you?"

"Upstart? No, I don't want to know." Steve really wanted to know, but it wasn't his purpose right now. "He came to offer a bit of advice - something about hiring intellectual property lawyers and a JAG lawyer to handle things for me."

There was a pause before Tony said, "Huh. I hadn't thought about it, but that actually makes sense."

"So he's on the up and up?" Steve asked.

"Yeah, he's legit. But if you go with his lawyers instead of mine, I'm gonna be hurt."

Steve couldn't help smiling. "I think I can find my own lawyers, but thanks."

"Anytime. Hey, you need help vetting the lawyer, ask JARVIS."

"I'll manage, Tony. Thanks again."

Steve ended the call and checked the time. It was nearly eleven, so stopping at a café on the way to the library wouldn't look too suspicious.

He tugged on a jacket and left his apartment, locking it behind him.


	3. Chapter 3

Despite its name, the Patriot Café turned out to be a bit different than the cafes and diners Steve remembered. Instead of bare tables with napkin holders to one side, it had white linen tablecloths and tables situated far enough from each other that conversations couldn't be easily overheard.

Steve approached the maître d', a silver-haired woman with a severe expression, and hoped it would be enough to say, "I'm meeting my friend Diana. Tall, dark-haired -"

"This way, please." The woman led him toward the rear of the restaurant and gestured toward a table along the far wall.

"Thank you," Steve murmured automatically, his attention caught by the woman seated at the table. He knew he was staring, drinking in the sight of someone he'd last seen in 1945 but who looked as young now as she had then, but for once couldn't find it in himself to care. His jaw worked, but no words came out. He swallowed once, twice, and finally found his voice as she rose from the table.

"Diana?"

She smiled and came around the table toward him. "It's good to be remembered after so many years."

"Years for you," Steve said and opened his arms for her. "A couple of months for me."

She came into his embrace and for a moment, the world around them faded away, and he might have been hugging her farewell outside a small town in Austria.

"How?" he asked when she finally pulled back.

"I saw the attack on the news," she answered, giving him a last squeeze before turning back to her seat.

He followed, instinctively helping her sit, and took the chair beside her, giving them both a view of the restaurant and its various entrances and exits.

"That's - not exactly what I meant," Steve said. "But it does address the other question I have, which is _why?_ "

A waitress - no, Steve corrected himself, a _server_ \- approached before Diana could answer. He hadn't had a chance to look at the menu, so he just nodded to Diana.

"I'll have whatever she's having," he said.

"The balsamic steak salad." Diana shot him a sideways grin. "Extra steak for the gentleman, please."

"Of course," the server nodded and then was gone.

Diana took a sip of water, then met Steve's gaze.

"As I said - I saw you on the news. I wasn't certain it was you at first -" she spread her hands wide. "How could it be? I spoke with Peggy Carter after the war, and she told me about the _Valkyrie._ Of course I thought it was an imposter. At first."

"At first?" Steve prompted.

Diana smiled. "At first. Then I watched you fighting."

Steve felt both his eyebrows flying up at that, and Diana matched his look with a level one of her own. "How many times did we fight beside each other? That kind of skill, that kind of grace, can't be faked."

"Thanks - I think." Steve managed a grin, and she chuckled. He sobered quickly enough. "So why did you contact Bruce Wayne?"

"After I spoke with Sharon, it seemed the right thing to do."

Which, Steve thought, made perfect sense if you knew who Sharon was and what the conversation had involved. But he didn't, so he just raised an eyebrow in a wordless prompt.

"She's Peggy Carter's great-niece," Diana explained. "And she works for S.H.I.E.L.D."

"No surprise there," Steve said. "Considering S.H.I.E.L.D. is partly Peggy's creation."

"The surprise is that she'd been ordered to move in next door to you."

Steve blinked. That was the last thing he'd expected. Then what Wayne had found flashed in his mind's eye. SUSPECT PASSIVE SURVEILLANCE IN APARTMENT NEXT DOOR.

"Do you know why she was ordered to move in next door to me?" Steve asked.

"To protect you," Diana said.

Steve laughed. "Protect me from what?"

"She said she thought of it more as a guard duty," Diana answered. "Or, perhaps, backup if something were to happen."

"That makes sense, I guess," Steve murmured. "But that doesn't explain why she's spying on me."

Diana's eyebrows shot up. "Spying on you? You're certain?"

"Your friend Mr. Wayne said he thinks he found passive surveillance on me in the apartment next door."

"Oh." Diana blew out a breath, frowning. "I thought he was just feeding off my own paranoia."

"Paranoia? About what?" Steve asked.

"You." Diana met his gaze levelly. "I watched the news for days after the invasion, and you … disappeared, for lack of a better word. There was an official announcement that you'd been found, alive, and had helped defeat the aliens. That's all."

"What else should there be?" Steve asked, and Diana gave a rueful chuckle.

"Do you remember that night outside Prague?" she asked. "When I told you about my birthplace?"

"And I told you about the serum."

"You also told me about what came after - the USO tours, the celebrity."

"Manufactured celebrity," Steve corrected. "At least at first - I hadn't done anything to deserve it."

"That kind of celebrity is even more prevalent now," Diana said.

Steve got it immediately. "And someone should have made a big deal about my return. But they didn't."

"No. Which made me wonder why not - and with Sharon moving in next door to you to _protect_ you…" Diana trailed off with a shrug as the server returned with their salads.

"Well," she said when they were alone once again. "All my instincts went on alert, and I realized that you had no one here and now who cared about _you_ for yourself."

"Peggy," Steve began.

Diana smiled, but her eyes were sad. "She cares greatly, Steve - she always has. But she's not herself much anymore."

Steve swallowed past a sudden hard lump in his throat as he latched on to a disease he'd heard of before he'd gone to war. "Alzheimer's disease?"

"I'm so sorry," Diana whispered.

For long minutes, they ate in silence. Or, rather, Diana ate and Steve picked at his meal while he processed what Diana had told him.

It was hard to think of Peggy - fierce, vivacious Peggy - wasting away as her memories and then her body failed her.

"She's had a good life," Diana observed quietly, as though reading his thoughts. "And the disease didn't set in until just a few years ago."

"You kept in touch?" Steve asked, desperate for something, anything, to draw him out of thoughts that were turning too maudlin for his comfort.

"Sporadically," Diana said. "Less so after she married, and more so as she aged."

"She married." Steve had known intellectually that Peggy would have had a life without him, and he was glad she had. Hearing it confirmed was a punch in the gut.

"A man named Daniel Sousa," Diana said. "He was a good man - fought in the war. You even rescued him once."

"I did?" Steve frowned, trying to place the name.

"When you rescued Sergeant Barnes and the others," she said. "He was one of the wounded you brought home."

The irony of that wasn't lost on Steve, but he could be grateful that Peggy had found a good husband, even if he wished he could have been that husband.

He shook himself out of that reverie to focus on Diana once again. "So - you came here just to tell me that?"

"No," she said. "I came to help a friend."

Steve swallowed past a sudden dryness in his throat. Despite what some of the Howling Commandos had joked during the war, he and Diana had only ever been friends. He'd been in love with Peggy Carter, and she'd been grieving some lost love also named Steve.

That she would remember him, come to help him in this strange new time, was a gift he would never have expected.

"So," Diana said, breaking off whatever path his thoughts would have taken. "Tell me. How did you wake up? When? Where? I want to know everything."

WW - CA - WW

Diana listened attentively to Steve's tale of waking up in what he thought was a hospital room, then with growing horror as he described hearing a baseball game on the radio - a game he'd actually attended - and seeing a nurse in a uniform that was ever-so-slightly _off_.

She knew her expression showed her thoughts as Steve described breaking through a false wall, then dashing through a building and into a New York he didn't recognize. When Steve told her about his conversation with Nick Fury, Director of S.H.I.E.L.D., Diana couldn't help snorting.

"What?" Steve asked.

"You're thinking of working with S.H.I.E.L.D.?" Diana asked, careful to keep her tone neutral.

"Yes. Why?"

"I wonder why you'd give your loyalty to an organization whose first act was to lie to you - badly."

Steve blinked at her, clearly befuddled by her observation. "You can't blame them for picking a game I'd been to - they didn't have any way to know I had."

"True," Diana admitted. "But they could have chosen a game from after the _Valkyrie_ went down."

Steve sat back in his chair. "I hadn't thought of that."

"Or, even better, someone could have been there to simply tell you what had happened."

"Fury said they wanted to break it to me gently."

Diana looked at him curiously. "What does that mean, in this context? There's no easy way to tell someone they've been asleep for seventy years."

Steve blew out a breath. "You always had a way of making me look at things differently."

"I don't mean to upset you," Diana assured him quickly, giving in to the impulse to rest her hand on his forearm. "But that is one of the most baffling things I've ever heard of."

"I suppose it is," Steve said slowly. "But Fury offered me a job, and I'll need money. Or - I thought I did. Mr. Wayne said something about back pay and intellectual property payments."

"I think," Diana said carefully, "that you need to take some time to learn about this modern world before you make any decisions - including finding out about your back pay and such. Nobody should be rushing you into anything."

Steve regarded her steadily for long moments, long enough that she finished her salad, before saying carefully, "You think Fury's trying to manipulate me."

Diana shook her head. "I don't have enough information to know that."

Steve smiled briefly. "I didn't say you knew it, I said you think it."

Diana smiled in turn. "I do. Or I can't rule it out, which is the same thing. If Peggy were still…Peggy, I'd have more options. As it is, all I can do is be here for you."

Steve looked thoughtful. "I may know someone who can rule it out - and he's already not a fan of Nick Fury."

"Who's that?"

"Tony Stark."


	4. Chapter 4

Despite the general chaos at Stark Tower, Steve only had to give his name before he and Diana were allowed to enter the tower and shown to the elevators.

"Good morning, Captain Rogers," a disembodied male voice said as the elevator doors slid shut. "I am JARVIS, Sir's majordomo."

"Uh - good morning, JARVIS," Steve replied, courtesy winning out over surprise. At least Diana looked a little surprised, too.

"Sir is in his lab," JARVIS said. "You will see the door immediately to your left."

"Thank you." There was nothing else to say, really, and Steve settled in for the remainder of the faster-than-he-expected ride.

It wasn't just the door to the lab that Steve saw when the elevator doors opened - it was the lab itself, since the door, like the wall it was set into, was predominantly glass.

Through that glass, Tony Stark was clearly visible as he manipulated images in the air - _holograms? Something like that_ \- before him. The images were some kind of schematics, and Steve couldn't begin to guess what they might before.

A low bass _thump thump_ echoed in the hallway, resolving into what apparently passed for music these days as Steve opened the door for Diana.

Tony - or, more likely, JARVIS - reduced the volume of the music to a level where conversation was actually possible.

"Decided you want to use my lawyers after all?" Tony asked. He waved one hand and the schematics disappeared. He gave Diana an assessing look. "Or did you already find your own?"

"This is my friend, Diana," Steve said. "Diana, Tony Stark."

"Friend?" Tony repeated. "You've been asleep seventy years. How can you already have a friend?"

Diana smiled. "I was his friend before the _Valkyrie_."

"Yeah - no," Tony said. "I'm calling bullshit on that. There's no way you're past thirty, let alone past seventy."

Diana glanced sideways at Steve. "You didn't tell me he has Howard's charm."

"He's never directed it at me," Steve countered, and bit back a grin at the sight of Tony Stark staring quite literally open-mouthed at Diana.

Tony cleared his throat. "Still calling bullshit. Proof?"

"Do you have an internet connection?" Diana asked Tony.

Tony's expression turned affronted in a heartbeat. "Do I - does Tony Stark - have an internet connection? How fast do you want it?"

"I prefer security over speed," Diana replied.

Tony turned to a nearby table where several computers rested. He selected one, typed quickly, then stepped aside to gesture Diana forward.

"BPL connection," he said. "Fastest you can find. And completely secure."

"Thank you." Diana took up a position at the keyboard, Tony at her right shoulder, and Steve moved to watch over her left shoulder.

She typed quickly - though not as quickly as Steve suspected she could - and less than a minute later, the logo of the Louvre in Paris showed on the screen.

Diana turned to Tony. "I assume you have a keystroke logger enabled?"

Tony held her gaze for a long moment. "Deactivate it, J."

"Done, Sir," JARVIS replied.

"C'mon, Rogers, give the lady some privacy." Tony turned away from Diana, and Steve followed suit.

He heard more typing, and then Diana said, "Have a look."

Steve turned and saw a grainy black-and-white photograph displayed on the screen. It showed Diana standing with four men - one wearing a fez, bareheaded, one wearing a floppy hat, and one in a kilt of all things. The group reminded him of the Howling Commandos, and Steve swallowed past his suddenly dry throat at the memory.

He forced himself to focus on the descriptive text accompanying the photo.

 _Weld, Belgium, November 1918. Allied fighters pose after liberating the village. Copy of original stored in Ephemera Collection XXI-1918-11-A._

"You expect me to believe you fought in World War One?" Tony asked.

"I did," Diana replied.

"And then in the Second," Steve added. "She helped us take two Hydra strongholds."

"I thought you helped me," she countered, her tone just slightly teasing.

"We worked together," Steve suggested, and she smiled.

Tony looked from Diana to Steve and back, watching as she logged out of the website she'd found.

"Okay," Tony said. "I can roll with it. But even assuming that's true, why should you trust her now? A lot can change in seventy years."

Steve started to protest, then stopped himself. He had been going on his instincts - trusting first Wayne and then Diana - because he trusted those instincts. Tony had just reminded him those instincts were honed in the 1940s. Would they still serve him in the 2010s?

"That's a valid observation," Diana said. "Even if it has been my experience that people don't change. Fortunately, I can prove that, too."

She reached into the bag she carried, and when she withdrew her hand, Steve saw a length of rope in it. She wrapped it around her hand, and Steve recognized what she meant to do.

"Diana - you don't have to do that," he protested.

"I think I do," she replied. "Not just for you, but for Mr. Stark, as well."

Steve nodded tightly, and the rope glowed with power.

"I want to help you," Diana said. "I want you to have someone you can trust to be on _your_ side before anyone else's. And I want - I hope -"

She broke off suddenly, shaking her hand free of her lasso, and Steve wondered what she'd been about to say. He filed the question away for later.

"That's it?" Tony asked. "A little confession and we're all supposed to believe you now?"

"The Lasso of Hestia compels anyone bound by it to speak the truth," Diana said.

"Hestia, huh?" Tony regarded her for a long moment. "Well, I just fought beside Thor, so Hestia's not too much of a stretch. Fine. What's going on?"

"Diana thinks Fury's trying to manipulate me," Steve said.

Tony's expression clearly said that Fury manipulated everyone, and Steve could only shrug.

"More than most," he said.

"But it's only an instinct," Diana put in.

"I was hoping for another perspective," Steve concluded. "And though you're not a big fan of Fury's, I expect you can be objective about it."

"Huh." Tony sounded surprised, but his expression was thoughtful as he levered himself up on the table. "Why do you think that?"

"As I said, it's only an instinct," Diana repeated. "But he greeted Steve with a lie, and that's rarely a sign of someone with good intentions."

"What else?"

"He wants me to work for him," Steve said. "I'll need money, and I admit I was considering his offer. Then Wayne showed up and told me about the back pay I'm owed, and I wonder why Fury or someone from S.H.I.E.L.D. didn't tell me."

"I didn't tell you," Tony said. "I didn't think about it, and I'm sorry for that."

"Don't be," Steve responded. "It's not your job to think about it - and we got off to a rocky start."

"We did," Tony agreed. "But you were Dad's friend. I don't want to dishonor that."

Steve fought back fresh grief. Most of the time, the knowledge that all of his friends were dead was just that, something he _knew_. But sometimes, he _felt_ it, almost a physical pain, as he did now, even though he and Howard hadn't been the closest of friends.

Before the moment could turn maudlin, Tony added, "So - what has the pirate done to acclimate you to this brave new world before he dumps you into it?"

"Set me up in an apartment - that I don't know who's paying the rent for," Steve added with a frown. He didn't like accepting charity long-term, even if he realized that under the current circumstances, he needed a helping hand. "And had Agent Hill show me how to use the internet on a laptop and a smartphone."

Tony looked at him expectantly. "And?"

"And?" Steve repeated. "I don't know what you mean."

"Anybody can do that much," Tony said. "Even a bright six-year-old. Maybe not the apartment, but the internet, the computer, and the phone. Did either of them suggest history courses? Current events? Geopolitics? Hell, even Officer Training School to learn how today's military works. And that's not even counting getting you familiar with the most popular of pop culture."

Steve blew out a breath. "I hadn't even thought - I knew - know - that I'd have to get caught up on things, but laying it out like that just shows me how much I don't know. And I hadn't even thought of officer school."

"That's assuming you want to remain a soldier," Diana said softly. "You don't have to, you know."

Steve laughed briefly. "I don't know what else I'd do."

"You're an artist, as well as a soldier," she reminded him.

"Fair enough," Steve admitted. "But I can't just sit by if aliens attack again."

"You don't have to," Tony said. "And you don't even have to make a decision right now. I'd suggest you don't, actually."

"Why?" Steve asked, careful to keep his tone curious, not accusatory. They were starting to mend fences, and there was no need to make that task harder than it needed to be.

"Because you literally don't know what you don't know," Tony answered. "I'd say take six months or a year, get yourself familiar with the twenty-first century, and then decide. Don't let anyone - Fury, your friend here, me, or anyone else - pressure you into anything before you're ready." He paused a moment. "Unless aliens attack again, of course."

"Of course," Steve agreed dryly.

"First things first," Tony continued. "We'll get those lawyers on your back pay and IP rights. JARVIS will scan the top schools for history and all that, get their coursework and reading lists for you. If you want to go to actual classes, fine, but if not, at least you'll have a solid place to start."

"And," Diana added, "you have someone to talk to who remembers the same things you. Not as clearly, perhaps, but I do remember."

"Thank you," Steve said. "Both of you."

Both Tony and Diana nodded an acknowledgment of his thanks, but were silent after that. Belatedly, Steve realized they were waiting for him to decide what to do.

He considered his options for a moment before meeting Tony's gaze. "That's great about the reading lists and the lawyers, Tony. Thanks. But before I start that, there's one thing I want to do."

"What's that?" Diana asked.

"I want to see Peggy."


	5. Chapter 5

In the end, Diana won the debate about which one of them - her or Tony Stark - would go with Steve for moral support for his first visit with Peggy Carter.

She'd won by simply explaining that, "The Lasso of Hestia compels whoever is bound by it to tell the truth. Sometimes, that has included truth buried beneath lost memories. I can't guarantee it will work with Peggy, but I will try."

Stark simply regarded her thoughtfully. "I so want you and your lasso in the next SI board meeting."

Diana laughed aloud at that. "I suspect that would be the first and only board meeting I would ever attend."

"True," Stark acknowledged. "So I reserve the right to call you in for one meeting, if the defecation and the ventilation are on a collision course."

"I'm not sure that's a right," Diana said, "but I will help, if I can."

"Good," Stark said before turning to Steve. "You can have an SI private jet for the trip."

"Tony -"

Stark shook his head. "Nope, not taking no for an answer. It's faster and more private that way. Speaking of - you're both also getting new StarkPhones."

"Different than the one you already gave me?" Steve asked, and Stark only nodded.

"Far more encrypted than that one," he said.

"I understand giving Steve an encrypted phone," Diana said. "But why me?"

"Because you're practically family now - being friends with Capsicle and Aunt Peggy - and family takes care of its own."

Diana could only nod her thanks at that, too overwhelmed with the thought that without intending to, she had somehow created a family to … not _replace_ but rather serve in the stead of her family on Themiscyra.

But then, that was already true, even before Steve Rogers' return and this meeting with Howard Stark's son, wasn't it? What else were Bruce, Clark, Arthur, and Barry if not a substitute family?

 _Family picnics are going to be a blast_.

The thought came from nowhere, and she fought back laughter. Perhaps it would be better to wait a while before her two families interacted any further.

Fortunately, Stark had chosen not to accompany them to London.

"I told the pilot to take you wherever you want to go after London, too," he'd said. "Just - stay in touch."

So now, armed with the latest StarkPhones, Diana sat with Steve as the pilot guided the aircraft over the Atlantic. The cabin attendant had brought them water and offered other drinks and snacks, and now they were seated across from each other at a table, almost as if they were at a café somewhere.

Steve stared down at the coffee he'd requested until they were almost within sight of Greenland. Finally, he looked up, and Diana set aside the new translation of _The Iliad_ that she'd been reading. Comparing what modern authors had to say about that story to what her mother and sisters had told her was always interesting. Now, though, her friend needed her more than her curiosity needed indulging.

Steve cleared his throat before saying, "That was him, wasn't it? To your right in the photo. The other Steve you knew."

Diana blew out a slow breath, unable to meet Steve's gaze. "Captain Steven Trevor, pilot, American Expeditionary Forces."

"The first man you ever met."

"Yes."

"He must've been a helluva guy."

Diana couldn't help the smile that tugged at her lips. "He was. He was - everything noble about men, everything that made me question the hatred my mother and sisters had for them. Imperfect, flawed but still beautiful."

"You still miss him." It was an observation, not an accusation, necessarily, but still Diana flinched before forcing herself to look up.

Steve's expression was full of compassion, and Diana swallowed, hard, before she could say, "I don't think anyone ever stops missing their first love. But it's … nostalgia, now, more than anything else. He was a good man, and I am proud to have known him, to have fought beside him. Just as I am proud to know you and fight beside you."

Steve looked away, a light blush suffusing his cheeks. "I remember you asking if it was something about men named Steve."

Diana laughed quietly. "Even by the time I met you, I was still terribly ignorant of so much of Man's World. I thought parents named their children for the qualities they wished them to have, not just choosing pleasing sounds."

"Sometimes, it's for the meaning," Steve said. "Sometimes it's pleasing sounds."

"And you?" Diana couldn't help asking. "Which was your name chosen for?"

"Mm." Steve looked thoughtful. "I don't know that my mom ever said for sure, but I tend to think I was named for famous Stevens in history."

"Oh?" Diana said. "Like whom?"

"Saint Stephen, the first Christian martyr. Stephen, King of England. Steven Foster, a songwriter who wrote a lot of popular songs. There were others, too, but those are the ones who come to mind."

Diana studied him for a moment. "I can see all of them in you."

"Even the songwriter?"

"You're an artist, just as he was. Your chosen forms may be different, but the artistic impulse is the same."

Steve appeared to consider that for a few moments before he met her gaze. "I wish I could have known him. Captain Trevor, I mean."

"You're much like him," Diana said. "I think you might have been friends."

Steve smiled at that, but it faded. "There's - something else I want to ask you, but I don't think you're going to like it."

Diana felt her brows lifting. "I can't promise I won't like the question, but I can promise I won't be angry with you for asking."

"That's probably the best I could ask for," Steve murmured. He took a breath. "When you were talking about wanting to help me - when you used the lasso on yourself - you stopped yourself from saying something. I'd really like to know what it was."

"Oh." Diana looked away, out the window at the clouds passing beneath them, to collect thoughts that Steve's simple question had sent to the four winds. She'd barely admitted the truth to herself, so how could she admit it to him?

Steve sat silently, waiting, and finally Diana looked back at him.

"Please don't ask me that now," she said. "After you see Peggy, if you still want to know - ask me then."

He stared at her, started to speak, swallowed, and nodded.

WW - CA - WW

Steve carefully removed Diana's lasso from Peggy's wrist. The lasso had, apparently, acted as an anchor the way Diana had hoped, if her whispered instruction to, "Remember the truth of who you are, and where and when," were any indication.

Peggy's caregiver had warned them both that Peggy rarely remained in the present longer than an hour these days, so Steve considered the almost two hours they'd had a gift.

Not a gift without a cost, though. Some of the things Peggy had told him troubled him more than he could articulate.

So when he joined Diana in the library where she'd waited for him, Steve supposed he shouldn't be too surprised that she barely glanced at him before asking, "Is everything all right?"

"It's not all right," he said. "It's not all right that one of the smartest people I've ever known is slowly losing her mind and memory. It's not all right that she's alone here in this big house. It's not all right that -"

He stopped himself, realizing that he still held Diana's lasso. He offered it to her with a sheepish, "Sorry."

Diana took the lasso, stowed it in her bag. "You have nothing to apologize for. It was a poor question. I should have asked, how are you?"

Steve followed her out of the house and to the limousine that waited for them - another Tony Stark provision. With courtesy that was normal for him but now considered old-fashioned, he held the door for her and followed her into the back seat.

"Troubled," he said finally as the car pulled away from Peggy's home. "Some of the things she told me are … disturbing."

"If I can help, I will," Diana said. "Even if it's just to listen."

"I don't know that you can," Steve said. "Not yet, anyhow. But I have come to one conclusion."

"What's that?" Diana asked.

"I am going to take time to learn this world - college, officer school, all of it. I'm just a weapon, somebody's tool, if I don't know the ways of this time."

"That sounds more definite than you have before - is that because of what Peggy told you?"

"Mostly," Steve admitted. Then he blew out a breath. "I came to another conclusion, too."

"Are you willing to share it?"

Steve chuckled. "I wouldn't have brought it up if I weren't."

But that didn't mean the words were coming easily. He swallowed, hard, and shifted in the seat to mostly face her.

"Diana - I think I know what you were going to say before, at Tony's."

Her eyes widened. "Steve -"

"Please - let me finish."

It was her turn to swallow and nod, her expression serious.

"If I'm right, the answer is that I'm not ready now. Partly because of Peggy, and partly because of those things I'm not willing to discuss yet."

"I understand," she replied softly.

"But that doesn't mean I'll never be ready," Steve continued. "Just - not now. It's selfish of me to ask you to wait, so I won't."

"You're allowed to be selfish sometimes," Diana murmured. "And it's not selfish if I offer."

His breath caught. "Diana -"

"It's my turn to finish." She smiled to soften the words, and he nodded. "I wanted to be with you during the war, but your heart belonged to Peggy Carter then, and it still does now. I didn't say anything then, and I wouldn't have said anything now if you hadn't asked."

Steve could only gape at her. He'd had no idea she wanted him so long ago, but even if he had, he wasn't certain he would have done anything differently than he had.

Now, though - judging by the look in her eyes, now Steve had the promise of a second chance he'd never expected to have, and he'd make the most of it, starting with bending his head toward hers.

Her lips met his, and the kiss was as full of gentle promise as his first kiss had been full of desperate need.

When they both had to breathe, she smiled against his lips. "When you're ready."

"When I'm ready," he agreed.

NOTE: This is the end of part one. Part two is in progress, and I should be posting it next week. I'll update this story when I do. Thanks for reading!


	6. Chapter 6

The second part of Amalgam: Shield and Lasso, titled "Shadows," is now up. You can find it at:

s/13166556/1/Shadows


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